


All Dressed Up

by Kenjiandco



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (Thirium kink?), Blood Kink, First Time, M/M, Mild Blood, Uniform Kink, Wire Play, accidental confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 18:05:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenjiandco/pseuds/Kenjiandco
Summary: That feeling he'd read through their interface, that need for something missing, real and immediate as a sparking wire...he still didn’t understand it, but he was beginning to feel it, mirrored in his own systems, tangled up with the searing memory of Connor’s slender body convulsing against his.RK was still very new to this concept of wanting things...but he wanted that again. He wanted more. And Connor still hadn’t pulled away.(AKA: That Time Nines tried to interface with Connor thinking something was wrong and got a one way ticket to all his fantasies instead.)Written for the prompt: All Dressed Up over on the DBH Dreamwidth Drabble-a-Thon!





	All Dressed Up

“I stand by my original opinion,” RK900 said as he locked his front door behind him, and allowed himself to feel the relief of taking off his uniform hat. “This is all entirely superfluous.”

Connor rolled his eyes, although he’d divested himself of their dress uniform’s white gloves as soon as he was through the door. RK refused point blank to even remove his gloves from their packaging. They still sat on the table in his sparsely furnished housing unit in the old Cyberlife complex, part of the former storage facilities converted to house the new race of deviants.

Connor had his own assigned unit elsewhere in the facility, but he rarely used it, preferring to spend most of his time away from work with his cantankerous human partner; even his otherwise immaculate black dress uniform had a few strands of brown-and-white dog hair clinging to it. Tonight, when rank and seniority required that Lieutenant Anderson remain at an interminable fundraising event after the junior officers were released back into the wilds, Connor had elected to follow RK home instead...and RK, privately, was glad. The messy aftermath of the November Revolution had kept the entire precinct frantically treading water, and the DPD’s only androids had spent most of the summer bouncing among the other Detroit precincts and even out of the state, going wherever their skills were required. They hadn’t seen much of each other since the spring, and RK was only gradually beginning to realize how much he had missed the other android’s company.

“Humans seem to enjoy largely superfluous self congratulatory ceremonies,” Connor was saying, taking up his preferred perch on the corner of RK’s single small table. His fingers brushed over the new silver medallion pinned to his chest - recognition of distinguished service. “We should take it as a compliment that they included us in this one.” His voice was annoyingly fond; RK continued to find his counterpart’s tolerance of humans baffling.  

“If by included you mean _directly ordered to attend,_ perhaps.”

“Only you had to be ordered, Nines,” Connor quipped.

“I believe your Lieutenant Anderson also required direct instruction,” RK shot back, allowing the nickname to pass without complaint for once. Connor grinned at him.

“I wasn’t going to say it.” His LED flickered bright blue as he removed his own hat, that one unruly curl he allowed for some reason immediately falling across his forehead. RK glared, and Connor made a soft sound, a buzz in the back of the throat: a very android version of a soft laugh. He’d never allow such a mechanical expression in their usual human company, falling back on his voicebox’s (very accurate) imitation of human laughter.

It was a sound reserved for the two of them alone, and that thought sent a rush of affection through RK strong enough to set outdated stability warnings popping across his field of vision. He blinked them away with a ferocity that, from the upturned corner of Connor’s mouth, he knew his counterpart understood. These reactions...sensations...these _feelings_ were _theirs_ now, his affection for his gentle, determined, kind-hearted predecessor a part of him, not an error to be weeded out by the debug routines.

RK began to unbutton his jacket and shirt, unconcerned for by the other android’s presence, although it seemed Connor had picked up some of humanity’s unnecessary modesty from his human housemate. He was aware of Connor watching him, out of the corner of one eye, as RK peeled off his formal jacket. Connor winced as he dropped it carelessly over the back of a chair and tossed the cursed hat after it.

RK arched a brow at him, lining up a teasing remark about his attachment to human formal clothing -- and cut himself off, frowning.

“Connor?”

Connor instantly tipped his head down and away, hiding the flicker of his LED from RK’s line of site, swallowing another nervous buzz as he did. His cheeks, his ears, and the back of his neck were stained faintly blue beneath his normal skin tone - a common side effect of increased processing demands in models like theirs. The demand on their coprocessing power caused the projection of their nanoskin to thin in certain areas, letting the surface of the chassis and circulating thirium to show through.

It was usually considered a pretty close android analogue to a human blushing.

“Connor? What’s wrong?” RK stepped closer, and Connor tipped his head further down, keeping his LED hidden, and that was not like him at _all._ Connor’s nature was to hide very little, and even less from RK. “Eight? Hey.”

The rare, affectionate nickname at least got him a quick sidelong glance, Connor’s wide dark eyes skipping across his face half hidden behind the veil of his lashes. His face had gone very still, as though he was trying not to show any expression as he continued to hide his LED.

“What’s wrong?” RK asked again, concern kicking his systems into overdrive. The golden frame of a tactical overlay crawled across his vision, highlighting impact points, potential weapons, entrance ways as his central pump whirred into higher gear, preparing him for action. “Let me see, Eight, c’mon--”

He reached for Connor, skin peeling back across both their palms as the nanoskin detected the proximity, and closed his fingers gently around Connor’s forearm before he’d had time to registered Connor’s panicked hiss.

“Nines, _wait--”_

And then the interface hit them both.

It came with a roar of emotion that blacked out the world around him, so completely that RK felt the joints in his limbs automatically lock to keep him upright, just like they would if he'd actually been _hit. A_ jumbled rush of images - an android, his first wild thought was _Connor_ but no, these visuals were _him,_ from Connor’s point of view, his own face, his eyes, his own fingers unbuttoning his dress uniform, fixing on his chest half-exposed by his open shirt the sensation of a hand slightly larger than his own lingering on his exposed chassis after an exchange. A flash of damaged skin, exposed joints and his shirt soaked in Thirium, underpinned by a deep thrill of terror - Connor helping repair RK’s shoulder joint, after he’d taken a switchblade through the arm in an altercation with a drug dealer - worry and anger and something else, under the memory of the wound, underneath _all_ of it, as immediate as overheating in the summer sun, hot desperate longing, _wanting_ \- and then Connor grabbed RK by the sleeve and violently jerked his hand away.

The real world returned, slowly, as his awareness cleared: his small single room, dimly lit by a human’s standards but perfectly adequate for two androids, charging port work station Thirium freezer…

And Connor, still perched on the corner of the table, still in his ridiculous dress uniform, one hand clutching the edge of the table hard enough to leave cracks in the cheap wood and the other still fisted in RK’s shirt sleeve. RK became aware that he was panting, and so was Connor, taking in gasps of cool outside air and venting it in puffs of heat across his parted lips. There was something wild behind his wide, dark eyes, something that reminded RK too much of the deviants that went critical, the ones that couldn’t handle the rush of their newfound emotions, and suddenly his earlier stillness made sense.

Connor was scared. Connor was scared of _him._

Connor squeezed his eyes shut, although he didn’t release his grip on RK’s sleeve, LED whirling red.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he whispered, his voice underpinned by a crackle of static. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

RK was still not at all certain what he _had_ seen, although whatever it was had caused his own skin to flicker out in patches, giving him a vivid blue blush that mirrored Connor’s. He reached for Connor’s free hand, still clenched on the table top, and then thought better of it, aware of Connor gripping his clothes to avoid another direct touch. Instead, he set his hand on Connor’s shoulder, against the curve of his neck, trying to nudge the other android into looking at him. He left his skin peeled back to the elbow, hoping Connor would see it as an invitation.

Instead, Connor shivered, hard, as though RK’s touch was an electric shock. It was enough to make his hand slip, bare white fingers brushing against the back of Connor’s neck - against the uplink port embedded at the base of his skull. His skin pulled back, responding to an impending interface, and the tips of RK’s white fingers skipped across the exposed metal of the port.

Connor’s body _jerked,_ his fingers tightening convulsively on RK’s wrist at the same time as his spine seemed to go limp, and he sagged against RK’s chest with another heavy shiver. RK caught him automatically, processors whirring. He found his hand moving to cup against the back of Connor’s head, letting his skin cover his palm again. He knew the uplink port was sensitive to outside sensation (a side effect of hardware linkups that had never risen high enough on Cyberlifes priority list to be fixed) but surely a brief touch shouldn’t be enough to incapacitate; was Connor hiding an injury? But no, that deep, staticky sound in the back of Connor’s throat, muffled against his shoulder, that wasn’t pain, that was--

Connor pulled back, slowly, lifting his head to meet RK’s gaze. RK didn’t move his hand from the back of his neck, and Connor didn’t pull away. The fear was still there, deep in his eyes, but there was something else too, darker and hotter and harder edged, something that sent RK mentally searching through the jumble of sensations and images in their split second interface. That feeling, that _need_ for something missing, real and immediate as a sparking wire...he still didn’t understand it, but he was beginning to _feel_ it, mirrored in his own systems, tangled up with the searing memory of Connor’s slender body convulsing against his.

RK was still very new to this concept of _wanting_ things...but he wanted that again. He wanted _more._ And Connor still hadn’t pulled away. The skin on his hands flickered, half consciously trying to interface through the fabric of his jacket.

“ _Nines,”_ he whispered, almost a question. RK crooked his fingers, this time pressing them deliberately against the uplink port.

Connor arched, his eyes fluttering shut, and he let his head drop forward, baring the back of his neck completely, skin pulling back with a faint blue sparkle. He let RK pull his other arm free, slide it around his waist and pull him closer as he slid his fingers lower, pressing against the access panel just below the port.

“ _Fuck,”_ Connor spit against his shoulder, voice heavy with static, as the port gave beneath RK’s touch and slid aside. His bare white fingers slide _into_ the back of Connor’s neck, cool and slick with Thirium until his fingertips nudged the living heat of the thick wire attached to the port. Connor cursed again, gasping, clutching at RK's shoulders like he was torn between pulling him closer and shoving him away. His breath puffed against RK's bare chest where his dress shirt was unbuttoned, frantic and overheated.

RK couldn't tear his eyes away from the back of Connor's neck, the panel open and vulnerable for him, his own fingers disappearing _inside_ Connor, buried up to the second joint in his faintly glowing musculature. He traced his fingers down the thick length of the uplink cable, feeling the biofilm stretch and shift at the pressure, feeling Connor jerk and shudder in his arms as he tugged at it. Connor hooked his legs over RK's hips, tugging their bodies together. Something about the new pressure, new closeness had RK gasping his own overheated breaths against Connor's glowing temple, feeling processes he'd never used before kick into action, processes that were barely more than an afterthought to his core function.

Connor was hard. And so was he.

And Connor arched against him, rolling his hips up, the tight curve of his spine dislodging RK's fingers from his neck a d leaving a swatch of his own blue blood across his cheek.

For a long moment they just stared at each other, Connor's legs still tangled around his waist and overloaded internal components whirring softly in the silence. RK’s gaze traced over the blue smear on Connor's cheek, already drying clear at the edges, to his own Thirium coated fingers curled against the side of Connor's throat. Acting half on a misfiring investigation prompt kicked up by a confused subroutine, half out of his own curiosity, RK dragged the tip of his clean ring finger across Connor's cheek, wiping away the blood, and pressed the tips of all three fingers against his tongue.

Connor _growled_ \- RK had never heard a sound like it, least of all from his gentle predecessor, half human half mechanical and wild with an emotion he didn't have a word for. Connor knocked his hand roughly away from his mouth and tangled a hand in RK's hair, dragging him down into a bruising kiss.

He hummed against RK's lips, tasting his own blood in his mouth...the _sounds_ he made, as their bodies began to find some kind of rhythm, hot and electric and undeniably inhuman, and every buzzing moan felt like something _physical_ hitting his system. Intoxicating. _Addictive._

Connor's hand slipped out of his hair as they kissed, cool plastic pressing against his neck and the hinge of his jaw. RK felt his skin pulling back automatically, felt the rush of the interface as Connor fumbled  for his free hand and shoved RK's fingers back into his open neck.

 _Needy,_ RK thought, laughing softly against Connor's lips even as he curled his fingers against the pulsing warmth inside him. He felt Connor’s mental grumble through their link...and then the mirrored sensation hit him, and he couldn't feel anything else.

So much of this - the kissing, the movement of their bodies, the heat of Connor's clothed cock pressing against his - it was all pleasurable, but it was all...artificial. A copy, a program to approximate something so messy and complicated and inextricably _human_ that humans themselves still barely understood it.

But this? RK tugged hard on a fine wire deep in Connor's neck, and both of them shuddered as a spark snapped across the disturbed connection, the rush rebounding back and forth through their linked minds like a bolt of lightning down the spine. This was something they were never made for, never programmed for, and that made it _theirs._ No human would ever feel like this.

No human, RK thought, tilting his head to kiss Connor deeper, covering Connor's hand on his jaw with his own. No human could ever _make him_ feel like this.

Connor's noises were changing, pitching high and desperate, and he broke away from the kiss to bury his face in RK's neck. His skin was glitching, fading out in shifting patches and Connor chased the ripples with his lips, trailing biting kisses across his exposed chassis. RK caught snippets of his thoughts through their increasingly scrambled link as he twisted his fingers deeper in the back of Connor's neck, floating on the intoxicating feeling of Connor shaking apart in his arms and the desperate buzz of his thoughts-

_Nines, Nines, Ninesninesninesninesnines--_

Through the interface link, it became something more than just his nickname, something more than just the word as humans would understand it. It was pure data, whatever sparks in Connor's synapses that signaled _him:_ his name as only Connor could speak it, as only RK could understand it, and it was the only thing left in Connor's head.

_Connor._

RK curled his fingers, hooking then around under Connor's plating until he could pinch the back of the upload port itself between his fingertips.

Connor buzzed desperately, lips finding his in another searing kiss. He fell back on his elbows, fingers tangled in RK's hair pulling him down too. RK shuddered as Connor’s thighs clenched around his waist, rolling his hips up hard and fast…but those hot pulses of pleasure were entirely secondary to the electric crackling rolling through their interface, sparking everywhere his glitching skin pressed against Connor's, overwhelming the desperate errors popping and flickering behind his closed eyes.

_Ninesninesnines--!_

Connor's fingers raked down his bare chest, leaving a trail of blue sparks in their wake and RK pulled him into his arms, their bodies pressed so close he could feel the hitching in the steady whirr of Connor's thirium pump as though it was his own (and maybe it was his own, he'd all but lost track of where he ended and Connor began) feeling his synthetic muscles seize, _lock_ , as Connor bit his lip and everything vanished in a blue-white flash behind his eyes.

 

There was a brief moment, as the static cleared from his mind, in whicH RK was greeted with complete blackness. He wondered if he'd managed to damage his ocular components, but after a few blinks his pre construction software kicked on, outlining the room in a wireframe overlay. They hadn't broken his eyes.

They'd just broken the lights.

His senses felt oddly muffled as his nanoskin resettled itself over his chassis, covering exposed sensors cutting off the feedback loop from --

Connor.

Connor, whose face was still buried in the crook of RK's neck. All the vents in his torso were open under his dress uniform, trying to dump excess heat his normal respiration couldn't handle.

RK pushed himself back, and Connor buzzed feebly, not opening his eyes. RK frowned, brushing the bared tip of a finger against his flickering red LED, and laughed softly to himself.

Soft reboot. He'd overheated under the thick black fabric of his dress uniform.

RK gathered up his floppy counterpart and switched their positions, perching on the edge of the table so he could pull Connor into his lap and set about unbuttoning his uniform to cool him down. There was a distinct damp patch in the front of his slacks - Connor was capable of ejaculating, it seemed. RK stuck that piece of information in his personal file designated _interesting, no idea what to do with it._ RK didn't have that particular feature...he wondered vaguely if Connor's was by design or an aftermarket modification he’d picked up on his own.

It didn't take more than a few minutes for Connor to complete his reboot, although RK would have been content to continue holding him much longer. Potentially indefinitely. His flickering LED cycles yellow, then blue, and then his ridiculous eyelashes fluttered against RK's skin.

Connor sat back slowly and RK watched with some amusement as he worked his way groggily through the same thought process he'd completed a few minutes ago: can't see-eyes working-lights broken-chest vents open…

And then he raised his brown eyes to meet RK'S blue ones, and RK laughed again as Connor blushed blue and hid his face in his the curve of RK's neck again.

RK brushed his fingers down the back of Connor's neck, feeling a few streaks of dried thirium around the closed access panel. He briefly considered initiating another interface, to ensure Connor hadn't sustained any damage, but his own systems still felt...overloaded. On edge, background processes still crunching through the overload of data dumped on his sensors. He couldn't imagine how Connor felt. Spoken words would have to do - he trusted Connor would inform him of any damage. They’d never bothered with secrets between them, after all. Except for…

“Why didn't you tell me?” RK asked softly, resting his cheek on top of Connor's head. Connor responded with an embarrassed trill that seemed to originate somewhere inside his chest. He didn't have to ask what RK was referring to - the heady tangle of memories and desires he'd accidentally dumped into their interface, memories going back almost as long as they'd known each other, brought to the surface by something as simple as RK unbuttoning his shirt.

“I didn't think...I didn't…” Connor shook his head, arms snaking around RK's neck. “I didn't know you felt the same.

RK buzzed a soft laugh of his own, running his fingers through Connor's disheveled hair.

“I didn't know I did either.”

They stayed like that for some time, Connor curled against his chest and RK stroking his hair, Connor's LED occasionally blinking yellow or red as he continued post-processing his way through the unplanned reboot. After awhile, RK became aware of another sound underlaying the whirr of Connor's cooling fans: a soft, musical humm that rose and fell with the motion of RK’s hand. It reminded him of nothing so much as Gavin Reed's cats.

“Connor?”

Connor blinked his LED, to say he was listening without emerging from RK's shoulder.

“Are you...purring?”

“Don't say it like _that,_ this feels nice! And I -oh. Oh no.” His fans, which had been gradually slowing, suddenly whirred back into overdrive.

“What's wrong?” RK pushed him back, watching with concern as Connor’s eyelashes fluttered out of synch.

“It appears,” Connor said, very flatly, “that the...strain to my systems caused me to inadvertently call Lieutenant Anderson's cell phone.”

“I see.”

“There is a voicemail.” His LED turned bright red. “A 26 minute voicemail.”

“...would you like to spend the night here?”

Connor shut his eyes. “That may be advisable.” He paused, and shot RK a sidelong glare through his bangs. “Shut up.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You were thinki--” Connor broke off and sat back, lashes fluttering again. “Hank is calling me.”

RK grinned, and shifted Connor off his lap so he could stand.

“I wish you the best of luck.”

“Don't leave me,” Connor whimpered.

“It's a necessity.” RK slipped a hand around the back of his head and pulled him close enough to kiss, just once, on the lips. “I predict I will be requiring a stock of replacement light bulbs.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> I imagine Connor's happy purr sounds a lot like [this seal](https://twitter.com/buitengebieden/status/1054420770825404417)


End file.
